


Homecoming

by malfoys_minx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoys_minx/pseuds/malfoys_minx
Summary: Bucky has slowly been learning to be a person again and Steve has been there to help him every step of the way. He’s got the basics down now, he understands hunger and tiredness and even comfort, but lust… that’s a new one and much as he might want him to, that isn’t something Steve can help him with, is it?





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really rather late to this party and getting into Stucky in this post-Endgame world might not have been my smartest move, but it happened and I've finally given up trying to fight it (although I have been pretty much ignoring the fact that there is a world post CA:TWS). Still I spent a good fortnight telling myself that this was a read-only obsession and that I wasn’t going to even attempt to write any… Right up until I went to see a friend supporting a singer/songwriter named Bry and there was a line in one of his songs that struck such a chord that I just knew I had to use it in a fic. Of course it's now been three months since I started this and naturally I've got a dozen more fics on the go, not to mention another forty odd unstarted ideas, but I feel I owe it to my original muse to get this one published first.

Bucky's gaze flicked up from his book as the elevator doors opened and Sam strolled in, his attention on the phone in his hand rather than the room he was entering. As Bucky continued to watch him with half an eye, the other man wandered into the kitchen and pulled a drink from the fridge before disappearing down the corridor, his eyes never once leaving the glowing screen in his palm. For what felt like the thousandth time Bucky wondered what that was like, to be able to enter a space and not even think about what he might find there. To allow himself to be so distracted by something that he didn't search every corner for threats before he could even consider letting down his guard, even in his own home. Not that he felt that he truly had a home. Of course Steve had assured him countless times that this glass box in the sky was as much his home as it was for the rest of the ragtag bunch of heroes that occupied the top levels of Avengers Tower, but Bucky was no hero and these rooms that he inhabited did not feel like home. Nowhere felt like home these days, or at least nowhere gave him that sense of comfort and security he faintly recalled from those long ago days in Brooklyn.

It had been nearly a year now since he had finally come looking for Steve Rogers, needing answers to the questions that had plagued him ever since their fight on the helicarrier. He had not returned to the Hydra base after his failed mission, instead wandering aimlessly for days while his brain grasped desperately at the frayed threads of long forgotten memories. The museum he'd found himself at had left him with more questions than answers and the pull of the famed Captain America only grew stronger as the days continued to pass, blurring together beneath a haze of pain and confusion. 

When he'd finally found himself, weak and all but broken on the doorstep of an old apartment in Brooklyn, he hadn't even know why he was there, what it was that had drawn him to that place, but Steve Rogers had known. He couldn't have been there for more than an hour before a too-large shadow fell over him and he'd looked up into an achingly familiar face. It wasn't until later, after Steve had helped him up and brought him back to Avengers Tower, that he'd told Bucky where that place was; the apartment Steve had grown up in, where the two of them had spent so much time together as boys. Bucky could hardly remember it at all, but the fact that something in him too deep for him to understand had still brought him home had given him more comfort than he'd felt in seventy years. For the first time he considered the idea that perhaps there was still a part of the man he'd once been, of Steve Rogers's best friend, buried somewhere inside him. 

Still, it had not been easy and even after all this time, he was constantly on edge. Avengers Tower was so far removed from his hazy memories of his former life that the word 'home' was not one he could associate with it and he sometimes wondered if that was why he still struggled so hard to remember things. There was no connection to who he'd been before here, nothing but Steve. Only Steve was different too, no longer the tiny, scrappy kid from Bucky's past, from his home. Not that he wasn't able to reconcile the two, after all he remembered Captain America about as well as he remembered anything else, but something about him set Bucky on edge more than any of the rest of the Tower's inhabitants. It wasn't something he could explain, not least because Steve's presence also soothed Bucky as nothing else did. He was never relaxed in the Captain's company, hell he was never relaxed period, but he felt secure, protected, _safe_. Enough at least to allow Bucky to occasionally let down his guard, even if just for a moment or two. 

As if called by his thoughts, the elevator opened again and Bucky's eyes lifted to find Steve walking through the doors. The Captain seemed more alert than Sam had been, but there was an ease about him that in his weaker moments Bucky couldn't help but envy. As always, however, there was something about Steve's presence that refocused him, centred him. He was alert, of course, he didn't know how not to be, his gaze flicking up at even the tiniest sound, but his eyes always found themselves returning to Steve. 

"Hey Buck." The other man greeted easily, settling into the chair across from him. "Watcha reading?"

Wordlessly, he held up the book for Steve's perusal.

"Twilight? Really?" Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened, his amusement palpable as he regarded the cover of the paperback.

Bucky shrugged, but didn't comment as he returned the novel to his lap, his eyes still fixed on Steve. It was just one more in an increasingly long line of books; all part of his process of learning about the world he was now a part of instead of apart from. Of course Steve had shown him the Internet, but Bucky preferred something tangible; the weight in his hands, the feel of the paper as he turned the pages. It grounded him, gave him something to do, a purpose of sorts, and he read copiously, mostly non-fiction at first, but then Steve's friends had started recommending their favourite books and he'd slowly begun to broaden his scope. Still, he wasn't quite sure why Stark had given him this particular novel. The more he read, the more convinced he was that it had been intended as a joke at his own expense, but he'd found himself plowing on regardless, despite or perhaps because of the parallels he couldn't quite ignore. After all, hadn't he too been designed to kill? And wasn't he also fighting his own instincts, trying to be better than what he'd been made to be? Only Edward Cullen had clearly been written to be the hero of the piece, while Bucky was no hero, not even in his own story.

"Hey, each to his own." Steve held up his hands in mock surrender. "No judgement here."

Bucky inclined his head in acknowledgement, but remained silent. He wasn't sure why he was so reticent still, even with Steve, _especially_ with Steve, but the other man seemed more than happy to fill the quiet, often carrying on one sided conversations for long minutes without seeming to need any input from Bucky at all. Not that he imagined anyone could ever need anything from the shadow of a man that he was now, not even Steve. _Especially _not Steve.

Sure enough, the silence was soon filled, Steve chattering away at him about some movie he thought Bucky might like. As Steve talked, Bucky sat back, letting the sound of the other man's voice wash over him without really paying attention to the words. It was soothing to listen to him, peaceful even. The voice had changed very little over the years, Bucky thought. It was stronger, less wheezy now that Steve's lungs worked as they should, but the tone was the same, the conviction and confidence that was innately Steve. It sounded like the home Bucky couldn't quite remember and he gravitated towards it, sometimes even allowing it to distract him from his state of constant vigilance. He thought that was at least one of the reasons why he still spoke so little, knowing that the other man would fill whatever silence Bucky left for him and he could make his peace with his own reasoning, weak as it was. What puzzled him was Steve's motivation. What did he gain from talking to Bucky? Why did he keep trying, peppering his one-sided conversation with openings for replies that he must have known by now would not be forthcoming. 

"Why?" 

It wasn't until Steve's ramble stumbled to an abrupt halt that Bucky even realised he'd voiced the question whirling around his head. 

"Why what?" Steve asked, his tone soft as though he were talking to a skittish deer.

Why am I here? Why are _you_ here? Why do your friends put up with me? Why did you not lock me in a cell and throw away the key? Why do you waste so much time talking to me? Why haven't you given up yet? Why am I worth so much of your time and effort? Why am I worth any effort at all? He flicked through each question in his head without giving voice to any of them, knowing that to do so would be enough to ignite that flash of pain he saw all too frequently in the other man's eyes. More than anything else, Bucky thought that was the cause of his own silence. Too often had his harsh, unthinking words sparked pain in those eyes and that hurt Bucky more deeply than anything he had suffered at the hands of Hydra. 

"Why what, Buck?" He repeated, his voice somehow even more gentle than before.

Steve's eyes were warm, his expression light and open as he leaned forward in his chair, smiling encouragingly and Bucky thought it was a little like gazing at the sun. Steve was almost too bright to look directly at, except that he could never bring himself to look away, no matter how badly it made his heart ache and suddenly it was all too much. Without his permission the words came pouring out of him, every desperate question tripping over the next in its urgency to be heard and there was nothing he could do to stem the flow once he'd begun. And there it was; that pain in Steve's eyes that ripped through Bucky like a thousand knives, except... Steve was still smiling. It was a small, sad sort of smile, but even so it reached his eyes, crinkling the corners and warming Bucky to his core, despite himself. There was hope in Steve's smile and something that almost looked like relief, though Bucky couldn't fathom what Steve could possibly be relieved about

"Because I love you." Steve stated simply when Bucky's words finally dried up. "You're my best friend, hell you're family in all but name and I will always be here for you, in whatever way you need me, no matter what."

"I'm not who I was before." He said, giving voice to yet another fear that had haunted him this last year; that Steve was still clinging to the past, refusing to accept that it could never be reclaimed.

"I know." Steve assured him softly. "In a lot of ways neither am I, but despite all the odds, here we are and I can't, I _won't_ waste this second chance, Buck. I will do everything in my power to help you and if all I can do to make you feel better is talk to you, then I'll talk to you, for hours and hours, about anything you want. If you don't want to talk back, you don't have to, just so long as you know that I'm here with you."

Bucky had nothing to say to that, but Steve didn't seem to mind. They sat in silence for a few moments longer and then Steve began to talk again, calming Bucky's jangled nerves with the warmth of his voice and the lightness of his smile.

\---

A few days later, Bucky was coiled up on one of the sofas, reading as usual and trying to tune out the sounds of chopping and blending that had been coming from the open plan kitchen for the past five minutes. It was no different to any other morning, with Sam pottering around creating one of his inexplicably complex smoothies and Bucky trying and failing to ignore him. He was pretty sure he should have been used to it by now, but even though each sound was anticipated, every slice of the knife on the counter drew Bucky's reluctant gaze. Just as he always did, he spent a long moment considering making a retreat back to the silence of his own room, before grudgingly accepting that he wasn't going anywhere. 

When he had first come to the Tower, Bucky had escaped to his room at every opportunity, avoiding the communal area as much as he could. Only Steve had never left him to hide out alone for more than a few hours at a time and eventually he had stopped trying. Besides, it was not stillness that brought him peace and most days the quiet of his room, almost oppressive in its intensity, was no better than the bustle of the communal space. As jarring as it was to be constantly on alert, it had turned out to be better than the alternative. His own head was not a place in which he chose to spend much time. Besides, he still breathed a little easier when the Captain was around and seeing him appear, flushed and content after his morning workout, was like watching dawn breaking after the darkest of nights. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later the elevator pinged and when his head automatically jerked up towards the opening doors, Bucky didn't even mind the involuntary reaction, knowing that he'd have looked up regardless in anticipation of the Captain's entrance. As the doors slowly parted, his gaze locked on the shadowy interior of the elevator, waiting as he did every morning for his first glimpse of his personal ray of sunshine. Only the peace he'd expected to find at Steve's appearance never quite materialised, because _unlike_ every other morning, Steve was shirtless. 

It took Bucky less than a second to evaluate the situation, to establish that both Steve and Natasha, who accompanied him, were smiling, that Steve's missing t-shirt was safely clutched in the Captain's left hand and that there was no immediate threat, but all of that was analysed in a tiny corner of Bucky's mind. The bulk of his thought processes seemed to have ground to a halt as he stared unreservedly at the broad expanse of skin and muscle that was suddenly in front of him. Shoulders that stretched whatever Steve wore nearly to breaking point looked even more impossibly wide with nothing to contain them and his chest seemed to ripple with more muscles than Bucky could count. He was hardly in bad shape himself thanks to the bastardised serum that had turned him into whatever the hell he was now, but even without his scars he couldn't have hoped to compete with the flawlessness of the man in front of him.

Steve hadn't showered yet and he was covered in a sheen of sweat that almost seemed to glow in the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows. As Bucky continued to stare, a bead of moisture dripped from the tip of Steve's fringe and rolled its way slowly down his face. Grazing the bridge of his nose, it slid past the corner of his lips catching there for only a moment, before continuing over the curve of his jaw and down his neck where it met a second droplet barely clinging to the hollow of his throat. Completely enraptured, Bucky helplessly continued to track its progress as the now engorged bead made its way lower, gathering speed as it skimmed over what seemed like miles of taught muscle until finally it melted into the waistband of Steve's sweatpants and disappeared from view. 

"Do I even want to know?" Sam asked, startling Bucky out of his daze and making him jump.

"Nat pretty much tore it in half." Steve laughed, gesturing with his ruined shirt and setting his muscles rippling with the movement. "She _says _it was an accident, but..."

At the mention of Steve's sparring partner, Bucky's gaze flicked across to Natasha, only to find her looking right back at him, a knowing expression on her face.

"_You're welcome._" She mouthed at him with a wink, although what he was supposed to be thanking her for, he wasn't quite sure. 

He certainly didn't feel thankful. In fact he felt completely off balance, as if the earth itself had shifted under his feet. He had never been completely comfortable here, but he'd acclimatised to a point, settling into a routine of sorts and appreciating the moments of peace that accompanied Steve's reassuring presence. Only after that morning, everything seemed to change. Steve's chatter no longer soothed him the way it once had and rather than peace, the Captain's appearance left Bucky feeling even more on edge than ever. It was not something he could explain, it was not anxiety or fear that surged through him whenever Steve walked into the room, nor was it anything like the vague uneasiness that he still felt around the rest of the Avengers. This was something different, something new; a tension that he couldn't seem to shake, a constant sense of awareness that left him feeling wired, his nerves frayed almost to breaking point.

As the days passed and his disquietude only continued to increase, Bucky began retreating back into his shell, holing himself up in his room rather than spending his time in the communal area. He could tell Steve was concerned, often catching the other man shooting him probing glances whenever he was nearby, but he didn't push, leaving Bucky his space. On the surface, Bucky appreciated it; that Steve trusted him enough to give him whatever freedom he needed meant the world, but at the same time there was a part of him that wished, just this once, that Steve _would _push. 

Of course even if Steve had tried to talk to him about it, Bucky couldn't even begin to explain what was wrong, didn't even understand himself what the matter was, but even so he wished Steve would try. Because the hardest part of it all was that he missed Steve, missed the inane chatter and easy smiles that had been brightening his days since his arrival at the Tower, only he couldn't seem to find his way back to that. His own nervous tension was like an eclipse, blocking out the sun and plunging everything in his life back into shadow. 

To add insult to injury, though Bucky didn't think he'd had a good night's rest since before the war, his sleep became even more disturbed after that morning with the shirt. He spent night after night tossing and turning, tortured by dreams that slipped from his memory the moment that he opened his eyes. Each day he woke too early, tangled up in sweat drenched sheets, feeling even less rested than he had when he'd gone to bed the night before. It was perhaps inevitable then that he would finally be rendered insensible by sheer exhaustion and one morning, a fortnight or so after the incident with the shirt, Bucky woke late for the first time in as long as he could remember. 

By the time he'd dragged himself out of bed, venturing into the kitchen in search of breakfast, it was long past the time when Steve usually returned from his workout and Bucky was more than a little relieved by the prospect of a meal uninterrupted by the other man's concerned attention. His luck lasted him through eggs and bacon, plus several rounds of toast and he was polishing off his last mouthful when the sound of footsteps caught his attention and sure enough, a few seconds later a man padded around the corner into the kitchen. His head was buried in the towel he was using to rub at his hair, but it wasn't as though Bucky needed to see his face to know instantly that it was Steve.

The Captain didn't notice him immediately and in that brief moment while he remained unobserved, Bucky's breath seemed to catch in his throat as he regarded the approaching man. Steve was shirtless again, evidently having only just stepped out of the shower and his skin still held a sheen of dampness where he hadn't quite dried himself properly. His feet were bare beneath his low slung jeans and his unbuckled belt clinked softly where it hung from its loops as he moved obliviously closer to Bucky's perch at the kitchen island. With each step that Steve took, a prickling sense of hyper-awareness seemed to trickle through Bucky's veins, setting his heart pounding in his chest and his fingers tingling with the need to do... something. 

Not knowing how to channel the excess adrenaline, Bucky instead tried to ignore it completely, reaching for his coffee just as Steve gave his head a particularly vigorous rub and finally pulled the towel away. Distracted by the sight in front of him, of rumpled hair falling over perfectly formed features, Bucky overstretched and at the sharp ping of metal on china, Steve's head jerked up, his gaze focusing unerringly on Bucky. As their eyes met, Steve's face split into a broad grin and at the welcoming warmth in the achingly open expression, Bucky's heart seemed to skip a beat. Without really meaning to, his own lips curved upwards and hesitantly he found himself returning the other man's smile. The expression felt so foreign on his face that he wasn't even sure he was doing it right, but then Steve positively beamed in response, his eyes so bright that they seemed to light up the whole room and for just a moment, all the tension seemed to flow out of him, leaving him feeling at peace for the first time in weeks. Steve's smile only seemed to brighten even more after that, as he carelessly deposited his towel on a chair, before heading towards the coffee machine opposite Bucky's perch. 

"Do you want a top up?" He asked as he crossed the room. 

Only Bucky wasn't listening, because as he spoke Steve dropped his hands to his waistband, helplessly dragging Bucky's gaze down along with them. As he watched captivated, Steve hiked up his jeans before gathering the ends of his belt between his fingers, guiding the leather strap through the buckle and pulling it taught around his hips. 

"Buck?" Steve asked again and Bucky's head shot up immediately. "Coffee?" 

His guilty eyes rose to meet Steve's warm, smiling ones and all of a sudden lust, sharp and urgent, tore through him like a freight train, leaving him breathless. The feeling wasn't new, he realised just as abruptly, this intense need he had for Steve, it had just been so long since he'd felt anything like it that he hadn't been able to see it for what it was. That tension whenever he was in the other man's company, the awareness... 

"Bucky?" Steve repeated again, smile fading to concern. "You're trembling, are you ok?" 

Tearing his gaze from Steve's face he looked down and sure enough his right hand was shaking like a leaf where it rested next to his empty plate on the counter. His left, however, remained completely motionless, frozen beside his coffee mug as if it didn't even belong to him. He imagined touching Steve with that arm, defiling his body with the monstrosity that didn't even respond to Bucky's deepest emotions and he couldn't bear it. The futility of his desires washed over him like a flood and he was drowning in it; The absolute certainty that he could _never_ be worthy of a man like Steve. With a soft cry that oh-so-aptly didn't sound entirely human, he pushed back from the counter, not even letting himself so much as glance back up at Steve before he did the only thing he could; he ran. 

There was a part of him that wanted to keep going, to push open the door to the stairwell and run down and down. To descend into the dust in which he belonged. To run out the door and never stop. To get as far away from Steve as possible. He wasn't strong enough for that though, couldn't force his feet to do his bidding, and instead he bolted for his room, locking the door behind him with a still shaking hand. He knew Steve would follow, but he also knew by now that Steve would never push and so he curled up in a corner, arms wrapped tightly around himself and ignoring the other man's knocking until it finally went away. 

He didn't leave his room at all for the next two days. Steve came by countless times, sometimes with the promise of food, sometimes without, and even through the door, Bucky could hear the pain in the other man's voice as he pleaded with Bucky to open up. He hated hurting Steve and each ignored visit cut him to the quick, but he couldn't make himself move, couldn't find the words to call Steve in and so he continued to hide, curled up in the dark, trying to pretend that he wasn't the worst kind of person in every way. 

If he hadn't needed to eat, he knew he'd probably have stayed in his room indefinitely, but even he could only go so long without sustenance. At times he still struggled to understand what his body needed before it overwhelmed him, but he'd got better, learned to read himself in a way he hadn't needed to think about in decades. He'd realised soon after his arrival at the Tower that he didn't feel thirst or hunger or tiredness the way normal people did, but he supposed those things would have been considered a distraction for the asset, only ever deployed for short periods at a time. They'd nourished him at the base and he'd slept in the ice for long enough, what use did he have for physical impulses? In retrospect, it was no wonder it had taken him so long to recognise his feelings for Steve. He didn't recognise any feelings till they smacked him in the face and whilst Steve had helped him to recognise when he needed to eat _before_ he all but collapsed from starvation, he could hardly have taught Bucky to recognise this other kind of want. 

Still, he _could _read his body better now and though he was still far from the point of collapse, he could feel the need for food slowly weakening him. Eventually he knew he'd be forced to venture out and he wanted to do it on his own terms, while he was still strong enough to remain fully functional and before Steve decided he had no choice but to intervene for Bucky's own protection. When he did finally surrender to the inevitable therefore, he timed it carefully, waiting just long enough that no matter how Steve had started his morning, he would already have left for his workout. 

Cautiously, Bucky headed for the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when he encountered no one on his way. Pulling a granola bar from the cupboard, he devoured it in two bites before wandering over to the fridge in search of something a little more nourishing. Only he had barely even got a finger on the handle when his senses started clamouring and he spun around automatically, searching for the cause of his unease. There was no one there and for a long moment he wondered if he'd been imagining things, but then there was the slightest creak of a floorboard and Steve stepped out from behind a corner. 

Just as before, Bucky's feelings crashed into him with the force of a sledgehammer, his heart racing in his chest as he stared at the man in front of him and it was too much to bear. He was no longer designed to feel so deeply, had been programmed for too long to feel nothing at all and he couldn't cope with this now, could barely even breathe beneath the onslaught of emotion that Steve's mere presence evoked in him. With a longing verging on despair, he wished suddenly that he could go back to how things had been before, when the Captain's presence had brought him only peace and light. Now Steve didn't so much light up the room, as set the damn thing on fire and Bucky with it and it was _too much_. 

All thought of food forgotten, Bucky spun on his heel, meaning to vanish back to his room before Steve could say a word, but what he hadn't counted on was Steve's stubbornness. Moving even faster than Bucky, he threw himself across the room to block his escape, hand wrapping around a metal forearm in an effort to halt him in his tracks. At that Bucky reacted instinctively, fight or flight kicking in before he'd had a chance to think about it, and before he knew what he was doing, he had Steve pinned against a wall, metal fingers pressed menacingly against his throat. 

For the space of a heartbeat, they stood frozen in place, before Bucky panicked, throwing himself backwards and as far away from Steve as he could get. Or at least that's what he'd intended. Before he managed to get out of reach, Steve had grabbed for him again, catching hold of his shoulders and stopping him once again from escaping. 

"I'm sorry." He choked out, just as Steve said "Please don't go."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Steve assured him. "I shouldn't have startled you."

Bucky shook his head, but Steve was having none of it. 

"I just want to talk, but if you really want to go..." Steve's gaze dropped to his own hands, still gripping Bucky's shoulders just a little too tightly to be comfortable and with a grimace he let him go.

"No don't!" The words were out of his mouth before he was even conscious of thinking them. 

"Don't what?" Steve froze, his hands hanging in the air a few inches above Bucky's shoulders. 

"Don't..." His conscience battled with the desperate need coursing through him. "Don't let me go."

Something indefinable crossed Steve's face at that and he sucked in a surprisingly ragged breath before he cautiously lowered his hands back down to rest on Bucky's shoulders. They stood like that for a long moment, Steve's questioning gaze roving over his face, while Bucky fought equally strong urges to run away and to press closer. 

"Can I?" Steve asked eventually and though Bucky didn't know what he was asking for, he found himself nodding anyway. 

Almost painfully slowly, Steve's hands slid down from his shoulders to wrap around his back, his arms tightening cautiously and pulling him closer. Bucky went willingly enough, allowing Steve to draw him in until he was pressed gently against Steve's chest, his head tucked into the crook of Steve's neck. He could feel the thrum of Steve's heartbeat against his cheek and he didn't even realise he was shaking again until Steve's hands started stroking soothing stripes up and down his back. 

"Hey, hey, it's ok, you're ok." Steve murmured into his hair. "I'm here, Buck, I've got you, you're ok." 

"Steve." He whispered back, his voice cracking down the middle, and at that Steve pulled him even closer, almost crushing him in his embrace. 

"I'm here." He repeated, so close that his lips brushed over Bucky's forehead with each word. 

At the barely there touch something in Bucky seemed to break loose and he arched forward helplessly, his head tilting upwards as he sought more. Steve was still looking down at him and Bucky barely even had to turn his head for their lips to meet. He had no idea what he was doing, nor what possessed him to act on the near desperate desire, but he couldn't seem to help himself, not when Steve was so very close. Only from the first contact Steve froze, his whole body stiffening and immediately Bucky pulled back as if burnt, fighting suddenly to get out of Steve's embrace. 

"No." Steve insisted fiercely, voice rough as his grip on Bucky tightened almost to the point of pain. "Don't you dare run away again."

Steve had never shied away from confrontation, even Bucky could remember that much, but Steve had also been tiptoeing around him for so long now that he'd forgotten the other man could be anything less than endlessly patient. Of course he'd caught glimpses of the more stubborn side to Steve's character, most frequently when he spoke to Stark, but this was the first time since he'd arrived at the Tower that he could recall Steve's vehemence being turned on him. It was such a shock that it cut through the chaos in Bucky's head like a knife and he stopped struggling. Only it seemed that now Steve's self-control had fractured, he could no longer stem the flow of his own emotions and as Bucky gaped at him, everything he hadn't even known the other man was holding in flooded out. 

"Do you have any idea, _any_ idea what you do to me?" Steve demanded hoarsely. "I've tried so fucking hard to fight this, because what I want doesn't matter. You're what matters, helping _you,_ giving you what you need to get better. You're so much more important than any of this and I told myself I could ignore it, but damn it I can't, I _can't_. I'm not strong enough, not when you..."

Steve stopped suddenly, his words breaking off with a low cry as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was breathing so heavily that Bucky wondered if he still suffered from asthma after all, only he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do to help. His own heart began to race as he watched Steve crumble in front of him and he struggled to tamp down on his growing panic. Steve was the strongest person he'd ever met, he couldn't fall apart, he just couldn't, Bucky would be lost without him, floundering in the dark. He wanted to do something to make things better, but he didn't even know what was wrong. Nothing Steve had said had made any sense to him. 

"I don't understand." Bucky stammered out. 

"I'm sorry." Steve choked out after a moment, though he didn't open his eyes. "It's not your fault, none of this is your fault, it's all on me."

"_What's_ on you?" He asked frustratedly. 

"I'm sorry." Steve repeated, finally opening his eyes, only to moan softly as his eyes met Bucky's. "Damn it, Buck, I just want you so much. I'm sorry."

"You... what?" Bucky stared uncomprehendingly back at him. 

"It doesn't matter." Steve tried to smile, but it was a fairly poor effort. "I'm sorry." 

"If you tell me you're sorry one more damn time..." Bucky gritted. 

"Sor-" Steve started before stopping short, biting back the automatic apology with a wry grimace. 

Bucky's head was spinning, still struggling to make sense of anything that had happened that morning. His brain played over and over what Steve had said, trying to find a meaning behind it that wasn't the one thing Bucky wanted more than anything else, but no matter how he twisted Steve's words, they always came back to the same thing. 

"Say it again." Bucky demanded suddenly. 

"I'm sor-" Steve started, but Bucky cut him off. 

"Not that." He snapped, his hands reaching out to clutch at the front of Steve's t-shirt and at the desperate movement, understanding finally seemed to dawn on Steve's face. 

"I want you." He breathed. 

"Since when?"

"Since forever." Steve smiled softly, eyes suddenly full of light and warmth. 

"But..." He shook his head; surely that couldn't be right. 

"Forever." Steve insisted. "Before this, after this." He gestured to himself. "Before that and after it." His hand brushed over Bucky's left arm so lightly that the pressure sensors didn't even register the contact. "Forever and always, no matter what."

At Steve's heartfelt declaration, everything Bucky had lost, everything they'd _both_ lost, all the wasted time and missed opportunities, crashed over him in a wave. Why was it only now, when he was too damaged to be what Steve needed that they had finally come to this point. He'd learned long ago that life was far from fair, but this was a whole new level of torture. To come so close and yet... 

"I wish I'd known then." He murmured, heart aching. 

"Me too." Steve agreed with a sad smile. "But hey, not many people get a second chance."

"We already had ours." Bucky told him flatly. "Way back in '43."

"Then what do you call this?" Steve gestured between them. 

Bucky shrugged, but said nothing, not sure what there was left to say. 

"Look, I want you and I think," Steve shot him an uncertain look, "you want me too, so what's the problem? Why can't we try at least?" 

"You want your Bucky, not me. You want the kid you grew up with, the man you fought side by side with, you want someone who died seventy years ago. Sure, I look like him, I even have some of his memories, but I'm not him, not any more and he will never come back."

By the time he'd finished Steve looked like he'd been punched, but Bucky couldn't quite regret what he'd said. He hated hurting Steve more than anything, but sometimes there was no other way. He'd learned that a long time ago as well. 

"You know who I want?" Steve demanded, his voice trembling. 

Bucky frowned, but remained mute. If Steve wanted to be stubborn about it, then that was his choice. He'd said his piece. 

"I want the man who fought against everything he'd been programmed to do and saved my life. I want the man who's still fighting every damn day to be more than his enemies tried to force him to be. I want the man who broke through decades of brainwashing and torture..." Steve's voice cracked at that but he pressed on, eyes burning into Bucky's. "Because even after seventy years he _knew me_."

Bucky shook his head, but Steve still wasn't done. 

"You've been through hell a hundred times over, of course you've changed, but not where it matters most, not in here." Steve pressed his palm against Bucky's heart. "You knew me. You knew me when you knew nothing else. We're bound together, you and I, and nothing, not half a century in the ice, not Hydra, not SHIELD, not even time itself can change that. It's you and me, Buck, always was, always will be, to the end of the line. And this? This ain't the end of the line, not by a long shot."

Bucky just shook his head again and Steve growled, eyes flashing as his emotions got the better of him.

"What the hell is it going to take to get through to you? I want you. _You_. All of you. All the broken parts and fragmented memories, all of it and if you really don't want me then I swear I will never so much as mention it again, but don't you dare look up at me with those big fuckin' eyes and kiss me so damn sweet and then tell me that we missed our chance seventy G-ddamn years ago." 

"You deserve better..." He tried.

"I deserve _you_." Steve thundered. "And you know what? You deserve me too."

"No I don't." Bucky whispered and all at once Steve's temper evaporated, the anger draining away to be replaced with an expression of such raw anguish that Bucky would have done anything to take his words back and erase the pain from Steve's face. 

"Oh, Buck, yes you _do_." Steve told him brokenly, pulling him tight against his chest. "You deserve so much more than I could ever give you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved, you deserve a _life_, all the things they took from you and more."

Steve pressed a chaste kiss against Bucky's forehead and helplessly Bucky turned into it again, his lips mindlessly seeking Steve's and this time there was no hesitation. With a muffled moan, Steve kissed him back and Bucky was lost, because Steve kissed in the same way he did everything, with promise and conviction, pouring everything he had into it. His hands roamed over Bucky's body, one minute stroking softly up his back, the next tangling roughly in his hair to tilt his head just so and all the while Steve's lips seemed set to devour him. His tongue plundered every part of Bucky's mouth until he couldn't think, could barely even stand, leaning heavily against Steve's chest as he tried to give back as good as he was getting. 

They didn't stop for so much as a breath until the door he had somehow managed to press Steve back against abruptly swung open, spilling them into what turned out to be Bucky's bedroom. Bucky hadn't even been aware of moving from the main room and the realisation that they had somehow found their way right down to the far end of the corridor without him noticing left him reeling almost as much as Steve's kiss. He didn't think he had been so unaware of himself in decades and it terrified him even as it thrilled him. That Steve could give him such freedom from himself was a gift he couldn't ever hope to return, but before his thoughts could weigh too heavily on him he looked up to find the other man grinning back at him, eyes flitting between Bucky and the unmade bed beside him. 

"I _knew_ you wanted me too." Steve smirked, looking far too pleased with himself, and Bucky laughed, the sound cutting off abruptly as he startled at the unfamiliar sensation. 

"I made you laugh." Steve marvelled, his smile so broad that Bucky couldn't help but return it, which only made the other man's smile even wider and then the door slammed shut and he was in Steve's arms again. 

His lips were caught in a kiss just as passionate as before, only this time he was taken less off guard by the tumult of feelings surging through him. As he leaned in to Steve again, he could feel the way the other man shifted slowly with the pressure, leaving it to Bucky to guide him. He wondered if Steve had known what he was doing, if he'd realised where Bucky had subconsciously been leading them, but he dismissed the thought almost immediately as unimportant. Steve certainly didn't seem to have any objections to their change in location and Bucky did not plan to waste time analysing it. Experimentally, Bucky pushed just a little harder, only he hadn't realised how far into the room they had moved. At the gentle shove, Steve's legs hit the edge of the bed and then he was falling, torn from Bucky's arms as he collapsed heavily on to the mattress. 

Steve landed with an amused huff, hand already reaching out to him in invitation, but all Bucky could do was stare. Steve looked like heaven, sprawled across his bed; face flushed, pupils blown wide and lips still wet from their kisses. His hair was sticking up at every angle from where Bucky hadn't even realised he'd been running his fingers through it and his t-shirt had ridden up during the fall, leaving a swathe of skin exposed to Bucky's hungry gaze. Seeing where Bucky was looking, Steve grinned, stretching out on the sheets and making the material ride up another inch. It was more than he could take and with a soft cry, he pounced, all but throwing himself on top of Steve's prone form. His hands scrabbled for the t-shirt, only for his metal fingers to shred through the soft fabric in his hurry to pull it over Steve's head.

"Between you and Nat I'm not gonna have any shirts left." Steve teased, even as he helped Bucky untangle him from the remnants of his ruined top.

"I can live with that." He muttered and Steve chuckled, but Bucky didn't look up, unable to tear his gaze from Steve's newly bared torso.

It seemed like forever ago that Steve had come back from his workout missing his shirt and yet the memory was still crystal clear in Bucky's head. Perhaps because he didn't have a whole lot of memories to begin with, or perhaps it was simply that there hadn't been a day that had passed since, when it hadn't crossed his mind at least a dozen times. Of course he hadn't realised then, hadn't understood what it was that he'd wanted as he'd watched that droplet of sweat make its way down Steve's body, but he knew now; could feel the tingle in his fingers that longed to reach out and trace that same path. He couldn't have done it then, even if he'd known what he'd wanted, but he could now, couldn't he? 

Cautiously he reached out with his right hand, pausing just before his fingertips made contact to glance nervously up at Steve. "Can I?"

"Anything you want, Buck, I'm all yours." Steve promised throatily, sending a shiver down his spine.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, pressing his palm against Steve's chest and feeling the way his heart jumped under Bucky's fingers. Steve felt hot beneath his touch and part of him longed to reach out with his other hand too, to warm his perpetually cool digits on Steve's heated skin, but he didn't dare. Instead he allowed himself to explore with his right hand, his fingers finally following that path he had daydreamed about so many times. When he reached the waistband of Steve's sweatpants, he trailed his finger along the edge, before working his way back up in a slow meandering path, tracing each ripple of muscle as he went. When he reached Steve's left nipple, he paused, circling it curiously with his finger before rolling it gently under his thumb and at the contact Steve's breathing hitched. For the first time since Bucky had started his exploration, he looked up at Steve's face, only to stop dead. The other man's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tightly as if he were in pain and Bucky panicked, pulling his hand away as if burned. 

"Steve?" He whispered.

"Yeah?" Steve croaked, his eyes fluttering slightly, before flying open at whatever expression he saw on Bucky's face. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

Steve pushed himself up until he was sitting beside Bucky, arms wrapped loosely around him. 

"I hurt you." Bucky said so quietly that Steve had to lean closer to hear him. 

"You didn't." Steve assured him. "What made you think you did?" 

"Your face was all screwed up like you were in pain." Bucky told him, his own face twisting in confusion. 

"Oh _Bucky_." Steve murmured into his hair, crushing him against his chest. "I don't think you realise the effect you have on me." 

"I don't understand." 

"Every time you touch me, every brush of these fingers across my skin..." Steve caught Bucky's hand in his, pressing a kiss to each fingertip. "It feels better than I'd dreamed, like the sweetest kind of torment and I can't get enough of you." 

"You want more?" Bucky asked uncertainly. 

"I want whatever _you_ want to give me." Steve told him earnestly. "No pressure, nothing you're not comfortable with."

"But it hurts you because it's not enough?" 

Steve shook his head. "Nothing hurts, it only feels good, I promise."

Perhaps Bucky still didn't look convinced, because Steve took his hand and guided it back to his own chest, pressing it against his skin. 

"_Really_ good." Steve sighed. 

"Yeah?" He spread his fingers experimentally, feeling rather than hearing the catch in Steve's breathing as his pinky skimmed the side of a nipple. 

"_Yeah_." Steve murmured. "So good, Buck."

Slowly, Bucky let his hand begin to wander again, only this time he didn't let his attention stray from Steve's face. He took in every flicker of the other man's eyes, every hitch in his breathing. 

"Still good?" He asked cautiously after a few minutes. 

"Yeah." Steve breathed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of Bucky's eyes. 

Mindlessly Bucky leaned into the touch and Steve smiled, leaving his palm against Bucky's cheek. 

"Maybe I can show you what I mean?" 

"Ok." Bucky agreed cautiously. 

"Can I take this off?" Steve asked gently, playing with the hem of Bucky's henley. 

Bucky hesitated, eyes flicking down to his left arm, only to find Steve's hand already there, his fingers easing between the metal digits as he raised Bucky's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against his palm. It was a strange sensation; his cybernetic arm was nowhere near as sensitive as his flesh arm and yet it felt... good.

"Please?" Steve added and this time Bucky nodded. 

His shirt was peeled off and discarded as he stared fixedly at a spot on the bed beside Steve's knee. He couldn't bear to look up and see the expression on Steve's face as he took in the myriad of scars marring his skin. 

"Look at me?" Steve asked softly, hooking a finger beneath Bucky's chin, though he didn't push, letting him raise his eyes in his own time. 

When he finally looked up, he almost wished he hadn't. Steve was smiling that sad smile again and it made Bucky's hands clench in his lap as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself and hide away from Steve's too-expressive eyes. 

"You're beautiful." Steve told him. "You are, Buck." He insisted when all he could do was shake his head in denial. "And seeing you with me like this? Seeing what you've become despite everything they did to you? You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

"I'm a mess." Bucky said flatly, his eyes dropping to focus on his scars, even though it wasn't his physique he was referring to.

"You're human. We're all messes in some form or other." Steve retorted and Bucky knew he was just trying to make him feel better, but the words hit him hard. 

Because Steve was right, he realised suddenly. Yeah, he was a mess, certainly more so than most, but he was also a man. A man with needs and desires and feelings; none of which he'd had when all he'd been was the Soldier. Maybe there was still a lot for him to relearn before he fully understood what each of those things meant to him, but the fact he wanted anything at all was testament to the fact that he _was_ human and perhaps that was what really mattered. He _wanted_ to be human, _wanted_ to feel things, wanted to be more than the empty shell he had been for so long. He'd learned the hard way that it wasn't something he could do alone, but then that was ok too because he didn't _need_ to do it alone; he had Steve. Steve who had been there for him his whole life, who'd been more than happy to help him so far and seemed perfectly content to help with this too. More than that; Steve really seemed to _want_ this, just as badly as Bucky did, so maybe this particular lesson in humanity wouldn't be such a hardship for either of them. 

Mind made up, he forced himself to look back up at Steve. "Will you show me what you meant before?" He asked hesitantly. "When you said it felt good?"

"You want me to touch you?" Steve confirmed.

Bucky nodded and immediately Steve's hands were on him, his palms pressed against his chest before sweeping outwards, fingers curving over his shoulders, then down both his arms in a smooth caress. When Steve reached his hands he paused, lifting each one to his lips and pressing a kiss to every knuckle, both metal and flesh, until the stiffness in Bucky's frame finally began to ease. When Steve was apparently satisfied, he slid his hands back up, dropping Bucky's now boneless arms back into his lap and pressing his palms against the top of Bucky's chest. The pressure was so light, it took him a moment to realise what Steve wanted of him, but finally he settled into the touch, allowing himself to be guided backwards until he was lying on the bed. 

When Steve deemed him comfortable, he began his torment and Bucky quickly realised that Steve had been right, it was the very sweetest form. In some ways it really wasn't that different from pain; the tension that had him gritting his teeth and clutching at the bed beneath him, the way his breathing had turned into gasping pants... None of that was foreign to him and yet it was nothing like pain at all, because he never wanted it to end, he just wanted _more_. 

He hadn't realised he'd spoken the word aloud until Steve paused, his hands stilling where they'd been stroking lightly over his ribs. 

"Please." He whispered brokenly and Steve grinned at him, looking slightly smug. 

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, I don't... I just... I... Please, Steve, I _need_..." He babbled helplessly. 

"Hey shhh, it's ok, I've got you." Steve promised, lying down beside him and pulling him close. "I'm gonna give you everything you need."

"I don't know what that is." Bucky told him quietly, tucking his head into the curve of Steve's neck. 

"No?" Steve asked gently. "You don't need _more_?"

"More?" Bucky choked, wondering if he could handle _more_ without exploding. 

All at once his thoughts stumbled to a shuddering halt. There was something about the metaphor that triggered a long forgotten memory, but before he could pull on the frayed thread in his broken brain, Steve spoke again, effectively distracting him from anything else. 

"You want me to make you feel good?" 

"You already did." Bucky admitted and he felt Steve smile against his hair. 

"I can make you feel even better if you like?" 

Shivering at the recollection of Steve's hands all over him, Bucky again considered the prospect of _more_. Of letting the tension build until it snapped. He still couldn't quite remember what it all meant, but he knew he wanted it, wanted _more_, _needed_ more, needed Steve to give it to him. 

"Ok." He agreed again and Steve grinned as he pulled back far enough for their eyes to meet. 

"Gonna make you feel so good, Buck, I swear it." He murmured, ducking his head and pressing their lips together. 

Steve kissed him until he was breathless and even then he didn't stop, only shifting lower to press his lips against Bucky's jaw, his neck, his collarbone and finally the mutilated expanse where flesh met metal. 

"You don't have to do that." Bucky whispered, breath hitching as Steve's tongue flicked out, trailing over scarred skin.

"Does it feel good?" Steve countered between kisses and Bucky nodded helplessly. "Then I ain't stopping."

True to his word, Steve didn't so much as lift his head until he had kissed and licked at what felt like every inch of Bucky's chest. By the time he'd worked his way back up, burying his face in the curve of Bucky's neck and nibbling lightly at the sensitive skin there, Bucky felt almost delirious with need and yet he still didn't know what it was that he needed. 

"Steve?" He moaned desperately, tangling his fingers in the other man's hair and reluctantly tugging him away from his over-sensitised skin. 

"Mmm?" 

"Kiss me?" He asked hesitantly and Steve groaned throatily. 

"Always." He assured Bucky roughly, surging forward and bringing their lips together again. 

Bucky kissed Steve back hungrily, his arms wrapping around the other man and pulling him flush against his own body. He knew how to do this at least, knew what it meant and what he wanted from it and yet even as the thought flickered through his mind, something gave him pause. As he pressed even closer to Steve, he felt something digging into his hip and curiously he reached between them, pressing his hand against Steve's crotch. At the first brush of his fingers, Steve broke the kiss to curse, low and breathy, the sound making Bucky's heart skip a beat and suddenly the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his head. His own metaphor about explosions, the desperate need for _more_, the hard press of Steve's dick against his palm... He knew what it was that he wanted now, only... 

"I don't know if mine can do that anymore." He whispered. 

Steve made a choked sound and Bucky's gaze flicked up to find Steve staring back at him, looking like he might cry. 

"I'll kill every last one of them for what they did to you." He swore, so low Bucky wasn't sure the words had been intended for his ears, and he hated it. He hated hurting Steve, hated making him feel angry and sad and he was terrified that if this didn't work it would hurt Steve badly. He knew he should stop this now, before it was too late, but he wanted to try so much... 

"Do you want to stop?" Steve asked carefully, shifting back far enough that Bucky's hand fell away from his erection. 

"No." He almost shouted and Steve's lips quirked up into the barest hint of smile. "Can we try?" He added hesitantly. 

"Of course we can." Steve pressed a kiss against his forehead. "We can try anything you like, but if you want to stop or take a break at any time then we will, ok? We're going to take this as slow as you need."

Bucky nodded, reaching out for Steve again, but the other man captured his wrist before he could reach his goal. 

"Nu-uh, this is about you, not me."

"But I _like_ touching you." He retorted, slightly petulantly. 

Steve moaned at that, but kept a firm grip on Bucky's wrist. "And I like you touching me far too much. If you keep that up, this will be over for me well before I want it to be." 

Bucky huffed, but didn't argue, letting his hand drop and Steve rewarded him with a kiss. 

"Is there anything in particular you want to try?" Steve asked when he finally pulled back.

"Will you touch me again?" 

"Mmm, I'd love to." Steve grinned, running his fingers over Bucky's right collarbone. "But you have to promise me something first."

"What?" Bucky's eyes narrowed. 

"Try not to stress too much. If it doesn't happen today, it doesn't mean it never will. Healing takes time."

Bucky had heard those words so many times from so many different people that they were beginning to lose all meaning. Of course he knew they were right; as tough as things were now, they'd been a hell of a lot worse when he'd first escaped Hydra's clutches, but this was different. This didn't just need _his_ time and even Steve's patience had its limits. 

"And I'll be right here with you, no matter what." Steve added, as if reading his mind.

"But what if I can't? Ever?" He questioned flatly. 

"I'll still be here, Buck." Steve promised. "In whatever way you want me to be."

He should have felt reassured, he knew that, but Steve deserved so much better than a lover that couldn't even get it up for him. He wanted Steve more than he wanted his next breath, but he wanted him on equal terms. He didn't want to be Steve's damned charity case. 

"And what about what you want, huh?" He demanded, suddenly angry. "Or does that not matter as long as poor broken Bucky gets taken care of."

He'd expected Steve to be hurt by his words, perhaps even angry. What he hadn't expected was the wry smile that twisted Steve's lips at his outburst. 

"What I _want_ is you, and if all we ever have is this it'll still be more than I ever dreamed I could have, even before I thought I'd lost you forever." Steve's smile faded as he caught Bucky's face in his hands, pinning him with his eyes. "I don't think you realise how much this means to me. I thought having you back was the best thing that could ever have happened, but this? Finding out that you want me too? That I can hold you and touch you and kiss you? I feel like I've won the fucking lottery and if this is all it ever is then so be it. I'll still be the luckiest man on the damn planet just because I'm the one you _want_ to hold and touch and kiss."

"Oh." Bucky breathed, rendered momentarily speechless by Steve's earnest declaration. 

"Oh?" Steve laughed. "_Oh_? I bare my heart and all you've got to say about it is 'oh'? Christ, Bucky, just when I think I couldn't possibly love you any more than I already do."

"You love me?" He asked, eyes wide.

It wasn't the first time Steve had said those words, but even Bucky could see that this time it was different. This was not just the love of a friend, nor was it merely another of Steve's attempts at comforting him, it was so much more. 

"Yeah, I do." Steve smiled, eyes glowing as he brushed a thumb over his cheek. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes, and you have no idea how good it feels to be able to tell you that."

"So _now_ will you touch me?" He asked, just a little slyly. 

Steve laughed at that, head thrown back in joy, and Bucky couldn't help smiling back. He liked making Steve laugh, he realised. Almost as much as he liked making Steve moan. With that in mind he reached out, pressing both hands against Steve's chest, his thumbs catching at Steve's nipples, and immediately his laughter choked off to be replaced by a low whimper of what Bucky now recognised as pleasure. He was so busy enjoying Steve's reaction that it wasn't until warm fingers came up to cover Bucky's left hand that he realised what he'd done. Immediately he tried to pull away, but Steve just tightened his grip, holding him in place. 

"Don't." Steve murmured. "Don't be scared to use it with me."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, only to close it again at the stubborn look on Steve's face. 

"I'm glad you agree." Steve grinned and Bucky just rolled his eyes. 

"I thought you were supposed to be touching me?" He groused instead. 

"So I was." Steve's smile turned predatory and a second later, Bucky found himself flat on his back with Steve's hands mirroring where Bucky's had been a moment earlier, fingers splayed across the top of his chest. 

Only Steve didn't stop after that, his hands and lips sliding over every bit of Bucky that they could reach until he was nearly mindless. When teasing fingers stroked over the skin above the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants for what felt like the hundredth time, something in him snapped and without stopping to think, he reached down, shoving at the material until Steve got the hint and helped him shuck them off entirely, along with his underwear. He was achingly aware that he was not remotely hard, but that didn't seem to phase Steve in the slightest as he continued his wonderfully thorough exploration of Bucky's body. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, alternating teasing caresses with firm strokes, following each one with the brush of his lips or the swipe of his tongue. When his teeth skated over the sensitive skin of Bucky's inner thigh, it was the final straw. 

"Steve, _please..._" He whimpered helplessly. 

"What do you want?" Steve panted against his hip, the heat of his breath against Bucky's skin feeling almost as good as a caress. 

And what did he want? He wanted Steve to stop dancing around his useless dick and _touch_ him. He wanted that touch to wake up something in him that he _refused_ to accept was dead. He wanted to feel things he only could if his stupid fucked up body behaved the way it was supposed to and why shouldn't it? He'd learned to eat before his body ached with hunger, he'd learned to sleep before he passed out from exhaustion, he could relearn this too. Besides, even his wreck of a brain could interpret need. Even before he'd found Steve again he'd managed to work out that he needed to eat when his stomach hurt badly enough and he was ready to swear that right now he needed Steve more than he needed food or water, more than he needed sleep, more than he needed to fucking breathe. He _needed_ this. 

"Touch me. _Please_, Steve, I know it probably won't-" His voice choked off on a desperate sob, but when Steve moved as if to rise up and comfort him, Bucky tangled his fingers in his hair, holding him still. "No, wait. I know it probably won't work, but I need you to try, _please_, I can't take it anymore." 

"Ok, ok." Steve promised, stroking a reassuring hand along Bucky's flank. "But if you want me to stop..."

"So fucking help me Steve, if you don't put your damn hands on my dick in the next- _Aaaaah_!" 

He felt more than heard Steve's chuckle, as he pressed not his hands, but his lips against Bucky's skin and wasn't _that_ a revelation. For just a moment he was ready to swear that there was nothing better on this earth than the feel of Steve's lips, but then the other man shifted lower, surrounding him with the wet heat of his mouth and Bucky quickly reassessed that sentiment. It felt better than he could possibly have imagined and it turned out that his body agreed with him, because despite his fears, he could feel his dick responding, filling and hardening against Steve's tongue. Perhaps it really was like everything else he thought dazedly, if he just needed it badly enough, his brain would work it out eventually and right now he needed Steve with every fibre of his being. Apparently even his wreck of a body couldn't ignore a need that deep. 

"_Steve..._" He breathed, moaning raggedly when Steve hummed his acknowledgement, sending shivers racing through him. 

It was almost too good, the feeling too intense and as Steve continued his ministrations, Bucky's hands scrabbled for purchase, clutching at the sheets, then at Steve's hair when that wasn't enough to ground him. His heart raced, his panting breaths leaving his whole body trembling and he couldn't cope, his nerve endings no longer designed to handle the force of so much pleasure. He sobbed brokenly and at the desperate sound Steve pulled back, concerned eyes seeking Bucky's. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Steve asked gently, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his hip. 

"I don't know." He whispered, craving what Steve was making him feel even as it almost overwhelmed him. 

"Hey." Steve slid back up to lie beside him, pulling him into his arms. "We can take it slow, we don't have to do everything right now, we have time."

"I know, I just..." He pressed closer to Steve, whimpering as his dick brushed against a fabric covered thigh. "I want it so bad."

"How about this then?" Steve asked, holding him close with one arm as he reached between them with the other, wrapping a loose hand around Bucky's erection.

At even the light brush of fingers, he cried out, but it was easier with Steve beside him, his eyes locked on Bucky's as he stroked slowly up and down his length. 

"Ok?" Steve prompted, watching him carefully and Bucky nodded tightly. "And you'll tell me if it gets too much?" Steve pressed and he nodded again. 

He knew he must have done this before. Even if no one else had ever touched him, he must have done it to himself, but he couldn't remember. It was like he was feeling every spark of pleasure for the first time and as Steve's hand continued to move and the tension inside him continued to build, it was nearly overwhelming in its intensity. He couldn't seem to control the pathetic whimpers that spilled from him, nor the way his hips thrust desperately into the other man's fist, but Steve never faltered. His gaze stayed locked on Bucky's face, concern mixing with the blatant desire in his eyes, and despite everything, despite the chaos in his head and the flood of unfamiliar sensations wracking his body, he felt _safe_. He could come apart and Steve would be with him every step of the way, holding him, taking care of him, putting him back together again after and that was all it took for him to finally let go. His vision went white as his orgasm hit him hard, wave after wave of ecstasy tearing through him. It was so very nearly too much, the pleasure so sharp that it was almost pain, and yet through the haze of bliss he could still feel Steve pressed against him, hear the murmur of Steve's voice over the buzzing in his ears and he clung to it, letting Steve guide him back to himself like a lighthouse in a storm. 

He didn't remember closing his eyes, but when he finally opened them again he found Steve gazing down at him, his fond smile still tinged with concern as he carded his fingers soothingly through Bucky's hair. 

"Welcome back." He grinned as their eyes met, leaving Bucky wondering quite how long he'd been out of it for. "You ok?" 

"I don't think I'll ever be just 'ok' again." He admitted, his body still tingling with aftershocks even now. 

"That good, huh?" 

"Better." He declared, heart skipping when Steve laughed. "Although..."

"Although?" 

"Maybe we can try the mouth thing again next time?" 

Steve groaned at that, his laugh turning slightly strained as he promised, "Yeah, Buck, we can try it whenever you want."

"What about you?" He asked curiously. "What do you want? And don't just say me."

"But it's true!" Steve objected. 

"So you don't want anything? You're happy if I'm happy?" 

Steve nodded, but his eyes narrowed, clearly sensing a trap. 

"So we're just gonna ignore this then?" Bucky let his hand trail down Steve's body until it rested lightly against his dick, still hard and straining against his pants. "Cos you don't want anything, right?" 

Steve choked out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

"Or did you want to rethink that statement?"

Steve groaned as Bucky gave him a squeeze, but shook his head. 

"No." He gasped, his hips pressing into Bucky's hand seemingly of their own accord. "I only want this if you do."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a stubborn punk?" 

"You. Repeatedly. _Fuck_." Steve's whole body arched as Bucky tightened his grip, stroking once before letting go completely, much to Steve's obvious consternation. 

Of course he knew that all he had to do was tell Steve that he wanted to touch him and then they'd both be happy. After all, Bucky _did_ want to touch him, very much, but he wanted more than that. He wanted Steve to admit that he needed this too, to be selfish for once, to demand something for himself and not just to make everyone else happy. 

"Tell me what you want." He insisted. 

He wasn't expecting the other man to give in easily, but perhaps Steve was further gone than he'd realised. When he reached out again, tracing a line above the waistband of Steve's pants with his finger, it was all that it took for Steve's control to come crashing down. 

"Oh G-d, _please_."

"Please what, Steve?" He crooned, flush with his unexpected victory.

"Touch me?" Steve begged, shifting restlessly against him. "Please, Bucky."

"Well why didn't you say so before?" He asked, voice dripping with such innocence that Steve almost looked ready to punch him. 

Before Steve could act on his less charitable instincts, Bucky moved, sliding his right hand beneath Steve's waistband and curling his fingers around velvety soft skin. At the first touch, Steve cried out, a garbled moan that sounded a lot like Bucky's name and warmth blossomed in his chest. This felt good, he realised, being the one to give Steve pleasure, and he could see why the other man had so easily set aside his own wants to give Bucky what he needed. It was his turn now though and he had every intention of making Steve feel just as incredible as he'd made him feel. Carefully he caught hold of Steve's waistband with his free hand, making sure not to let the metal touch the other man's skin despite his earlier reassurances. Steve wasn't having that though and before Bucky could even begin peeling the material back, Steve reached down to grasp his wrist, pressing the cybernetic hand against his body and trapping it loosely between skin and clothes. 

"When I said I wanted you to touch me, I meant it." Steve told him a little breathlessly, hips shifting restlessly even as he tried to focus on talking. "And I want _both_ hands." 

"Steve..." 

"You asked what I wanted, I'm telling you." Steve insisted, releasing Bucky's wrist for only as long as it took to shove off his own clothes. Before the material had even hit the floor, his hand was back, holding Bucky's cool palm against his hip. 

"You don't have to do anything with it." Steve assured him roughly. "Just leave it here? Please?" 

Bucky frowned, wanting to protest, but unable to deny Steve something he so clearly wanted. Instead he let his own attention shift, trying to distract himself from the way the harsh, cruel metal looked against Steve's skin. It was only then that he caught sight of his other hand, still curled loosely around Steve's dick and all at once everything else evaporated from his head. He knew his brain wasn't exactly in peak condition, but how he'd managed to get distracted from _that_ he had no idea. Cautiously he tightened his grip just a little before slowly stroking his fingers over the length of it. He heard Steve's breathing stutter, felt the way Steve's fingers tightened where they were still gripping his metal hand, but he couldn't look away. 

There was something about this, about the way the silky soft skin felt over the solid hardness beneath, that rang a distant bell in his head and Bucky found himself wondering at the familiarity of it. Of course he knew he must have touched himself this way plenty of times, but had there been others? He'd read enough to know that this had not been considered acceptable in his youth, but that, acceptable or not, it had happened anyway and Bucky had worked at the docks, had been in the army and he'd wanted Steve for longer than he could remember. It was hardly implausible that he'd have taken his kicks where he could get them. Only then he shifted his hand slightly and Steve moaned, low and breathy, and Bucky quickly decided that it didn't matter what he'd done in the past. He had Steve now and that was all that mattered; making Steve feel good. 

With that in mind, he started to explore, running his hand lightly over the hard length, before dropping lower, curiously teasing at Steve's balls with his fingertips. He relished every tiny sound that Steve made, from the slightest hitches in his breathing to the little cries of pleasure that escaped him every time Bucky's fingers brushed over the damp head of his dick. He tempered his own curiosity with those noises, repeating the things that made Steve moan just so he could hear the sounds again and the best thing was when the two things coincided. He'd quickly become captivated by each drop of liquid that gathered on the tip of Steve's dick, but even more than that, he loved the way it made Steve tremble and cry out each time Bucky's thumb stroked over it, rubbing the moisture into the soft skin around the slit. 

Repeating the movement again, he let his eyes flick up to Steve's face, watching the way his head fell back in pleasure, lips parting on a ragged moan, but it was only then that Bucky realised how desperately still Steve was holding himself. The other man was half propped up on his elbows as he watched Bucky explore his body, but despite the tremors that shook him every time Bucky shifted his hand just _so_, Steve was almost unnaturally rigid beneath his touch. For just a second Bucky worried that he'd done something wrong, but then Steve's eyes met his, his lips quirking up into a soft smile and instead of panicking he forced himself to think. 

He thought about how he'd reacted to Steve touching him, how he'd been unable to control the thrust of his hips into Steve's hand and it made him wonder; What if Steve was holding himself still so that Bucky could take his time? Was fighting to control himself so that Bucky could explore to his heart's content? In which case, Captain America apparently had the patience of a damn saint and Bucky would have to do something about that immediately, because as much as he appreciated Steve's selfless generosity, that was not what he wanted right now. 

In an effort to test his theory, he finally brought his meandering exploration to an end, wrapping his hand firmly around Steve's erection instead and beginning to stroke in a slow but steady rhythm. He kept his eyes locked on Steve's face and sure enough, at the deliberate change in Bucky's attentions, Steve's hips shifted, jerking helplessly into Bucky's grasp despite what were obviously his best efforts to remain still. 

"You don't have to hold back." Bucky told him seriously. "I wanna make you feel good." 

"You _are_ making me feel good." Steve assured him, breath hitching as he thrust forward just a little into Bucky's fist. "_So_ good." He added with a groan. 

Steve moved a bit more after that, arching into Bucky's touch as he stroked slowly up and down, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to make Steve feel _really_ good, the way the other man had made him feel; wanted to make Steve come. The problem was that he didn't have a damn clue what he was doing. Hell he didn't even know what _he_ liked, how was he supposed to make it good for Steve? Even copying what the other man had done to him didn't seem to be enough and he strongly suspected that Steve had been overly gentle for what had effectively been Bucky's first time. Perhaps though, he could ask... 

"Is this ok?" He questioned hesitantly. "I don't really know what I'm doing..."

"You're doing great." Steve told him roughly, his breathing coming in harsh pants. "Trust me, it feels amazing." 

"But what do you like?" Bucky pressed. "I want to make it good for you. _Really_ good." He emphasised, noting the way Steve's breathing hitched in response. "But you're gonna have to show me how." 

It turned out to be exactly the right thing to say, tapping straight into Steve's inherent need to be there for Bucky in every way he possibly could be. If his wry smile was anything to go by, Steve was hardly oblivious to Bucky's slightly underhand tactics, but he let it slide as he moved, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around Bucky's in order to guide them with his own. 

"Just tighten your hand a bit like..." He squeezed a little and Bucky cottoned on quickly, adjusting his grip and moving up and down at the pace Steve set. "Yeah, just like that." He groaned. 

After that it didn't take long before Bucky got exactly what he wanted; Steve shuddering beside him as his hips thrust urgently into their joined hands. 

"Fuck, you feel so good." Steve moaned desperately, his head falling back against the sheets as he arched up into Bucky's fist. "I'm so close, Buck..."

"Yeah? You like that?" He murmured throatily, his hand moving faster beneath Steve's increasingly frantic hold. "You gonna come for me, Stevie?" 

To his surprise, that was all it took to tip Steve over the edge. With a desperate cry of "Bucky!", he came, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He looked beautiful, radiant, and in that moment, Bucky could have sworn that watching Steve come apart in his arms was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Better even than the way it had felt when Steve brought him the same sort of bliss. Steve looked as if he'd been lit up from within, glowing even brighter than the sun, and it was Bucky that had done that to him, Bucky who had given him that pleasure. It was enough to take his breath away and then Steve opened his eyes, his gaze locking unerringly on Bucky's as his lips quirked up into the most brilliant smile he had ever seen. 

"_Bucky_." Steve whispered wonderingly, reaching out a hand to press gently against his cheek. 

Bucky hummed back, leaning into the touch as Steve's fingers stroked across his skin, drifting back to curve around the nape of his neck. At a slight tug, soft but insistent, he leaned down and Steve's lips met his in a lazy kiss. When he finally pulled back Steve was still smiling, almost as if he'd forgotten how to _not_ smile. There was something slightly adorable about it, about the glow of happiness that all but radiated from him and Bucky felt his own features softening into an answering smile. 

All at once, Steve's arms wrapped tight around him, dragging him into an almost crushing hug and Bucky yelped in surprise. 

"Fuck, sorry." Steve muttered contritely, pulling back just as quickly, though Bucky noted he still hadn't quite lost his smile.

"It's fine." Bucky assured him, realising as he said it that it _was_ fine. He'd been startled, sure, but he also hadn't accidentally thrown Steve across the room in panic either. "You can hug me if you want." He added awkwardly. 

Steve grinned broadly, but rather than pulling Bucky close again, he instead twisted round to retrieve what was left of his torn shirt. Turning back, he stroked the shredded fabric over Bucky's chest, carefully cleaning up the mess that Steve's overzealous hug had left on his skin before repeating the movement on his own chest with significantly less care. The shirt was already stained and Bucky belatedly realised that Steve must have cleaned him up while he was still coming down from his own orgasm. It was hardly surprising, after all, Steve had been bending over backwards to look after him for months, yet it still warmed his heart to feel so well cared for and cherished. And then Steve was tossing the ruined shirt aside and reaching for him again, pulling him, gently this time, into the warm circle of his arms. 

"I want to hug you forever." Steve murmured into his hair as he tightened his hold just a fraction more. 

"Ok." Bucky agreed without thinking, shivering slightly when he felt Steve chuckle against him. 

"I love you so much." Steve told him softly, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. "And I know it's been hard, but you've come so far already. I'm so proud of you." 

Steve's voice cracked just a little at that and Bucky instinctively cuddled closer, hesitating for only a second before cautiously sliding his left arm around Steve's waist. 

"So damn proud." Steve murmured huskily, curling his fingers over the plating of his shoulder and squeezing gently. "And I'm never gonna let you go ever again."

"Ok." He repeated, nuzzling his face into Steve's throat and brushing his own lips over the warm skin there. 

He felt Steve shift, pulling the covers over them, cocooning him in warmth, and then Bucky did something he hadn't even known he could; he relaxed, realising that for the first time in over seventy years he felt truly, completely at peace. Here in Steve's arms, he'd finally found his way home. 

**Author's Note:**

> “Cause you don't light up a room, you set the thing on fire” - Bry (‘Burn’ - 2018)


End file.
